


burn this temple down (these flames don't touch me anymore)

by Sovin



Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Background Relationships, F/M, Gen, Missing Scene, Spoilers, The Eleventh Hour
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-14
Updated: 2017-04-14
Packaged: 2018-10-18 17:22:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,424
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10621584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sovin/pseuds/Sovin
Summary: Istus isn't limited by death, or soul-consuming staffs, or metaphysics. It's the work of nothing to offer Lup the same choice as the others.Lup hasn't had many choices in the last decade.Spoilers for episode 59, minor spoilers for episode 60.





	

**Author's Note:**

> As I said in my first-draft tumblr post: Look, if Lup’s in the Umbrastaff, then I am going to give her every opportunity to engage with the narrative that I possibly can. Which means, in this case, Istus confirming that this is Lup’s narrative too, dammit.
> 
> Anyway, I love Lup so fucking much and am ready for her to burn down the motherfucking fridge.
> 
> This is a slightly reworked version of a fic originally published on my tumblr, [where you can come yell with me about Lup (and other things).](https://sovinly.tumblr.com)

Lup’s grown so used to intangibility, she’s not sure what to make of the weight of a room around her.

She can’t help herself: She wiggles her fingers, shifts her weight on her feet, twitches her head to send her hair shifting. Delight is a familiar well in her chest, but the stretch of a grin across her face is less so – not the bare gape of her still skeleton, but a proper smile, less lazy than the one that often sprawls across her brother’s face.

Lup is so caught up in physicality that she doesn’t realize that her umbrella, her brother, and her friends aren’t there for a moment. But given that she’s taking in the sight of a radiant woman with her hands full of needles and yarn, spilling like galaxies across her lap, Lup isn’t too panicked. If they’re in Istus’ temple, this must be Istus – Q.E.D.

It’s honestly more of a shock to be facing the goddess _herself_ , not just peeking over the shoulders of the currently alive.

“Well,” Istus says, a smile blooming over her face, “you’re just in time.”

“First that’s happened in a while,” Lup says dryly. The richness of the color and fabric Istus works with and is surrounded by sparks a thought, and Lup runs her hands over her thighs and glances down. Her red robes hang comfortably around her, soft and worn and familiar. She drags her attention back, so unused to anyone listening to her, talking to her, _interacting_ with her. “You talking to the rest of them too?”

“What’s the point of being a goddess if I can’t talk to all of you at once?” Istus asks, still smiling. “They’re very unique – in all the parallel worlds, of all the variations of people doing so many things, they’re the only three of them doing exactly what the three of them are doing. And you’re the only you who’s doing exactly what you’re doing.”

Humming quietly, Lup considers that. “What I’m doing is mostly haunting an umbrella and setting shit on fire to remind my brother I exist.”

Istus’ eyebrows curve up, as pale and shimmering as her hair. “No, I mean! Your whole life, pretty much, you’ve been preventing things that go against the designs of fate from happening, stopping terrible powers from being misused! Like I’m telling them, that’s my whole jam! And you –”

Her look goes soft, not quite maternal but _very_ like Lup’s aunt, all those eons ago, and Lup’s dead heart stutters in her chest.

“Lup, you’ve had so much taken from you,” she continues, even as her fingers keep twisting the yarn around her needles. “You’ve given _so much_ to do my work, without even knowing you’ve been doing it! And you’ve lost so much because of it, but you’re still doing it. It’s _amazing_. And one of these days, things are going to come to a head, so I want to ask you to make it official. I want you to become my emissary in this world, too, in exchange for my blessing.”

Lup snorts. “Yeah, uh, if you haven’t noticed, I’m a lich. Pretty sure that’s not in fate’s, y’know, playbook.”

Belatedly, she claps her hands over her mouth. Muffled, she says, “Oh shit.”

Istus laughs, bright and warm, and it sinks into Lup’s bones the way that the laughter of her loved ones always has. “I mean, that’s what I’m saying! You’re not using it to change fate or, or, or hoard power. You’re using it to help your friends, your _family_ , keep this world from going sideways. That’s all I’m asking you to keep doing – keep fighting the Hunger, keep preventing it from reshaping creation in its image instead of fate’s. You’re as important to what’s going to happen as your living friends.”

Hell, it’s not like Lup was ever going to do anything different.

“Yeah, okay,” Lup agrees. She draws herself up from her habitual slouch, tilts her chin up, and shoves her hands into her pockets. “I guess I’m not done with this world just yet. Are there any, like, benefits? Not that I can really use them, I live in my umbrella, and it is barren as _shit_ in there.”

“Definitely benefits!” Istus enthuses, but her smile turns a little wry, a little tragic. “Unfortunately, I can’t give you the sorts of things I’m giving the boys, but there’s a little something I can do.”

She weaves a new color into her knitting, like the world re-weaving them after another year, andthen  a little pendent, the same as Istus’ holy symbol, hovers in front of Lup.

Lup tentatively reaches out and brushes her fingers over it before taking the necklace in hand. It feels real, feels like the weight of bronze in her hand, a little cool but warming quickly, the grooves of it intense against her fingers. Shakily, Lup wraps the chain around her wrist, wearing it like a bracelet. “Cool, my dude.”

“Very cool,” Istus agrees, her eyes creasing as she smiles again. Her gaze is captivating and Lup can’t look away for more than a few moments. “Depending on how things go, I should be able to make that corporeal, when you have a body again. For now…”

For now, Lup has something new, the first thing in a decade. Her fingers trace over the symbol again, her restlessness settling with the motion. It’s not the friendly warmth of her Phoenix Fire Gauntlet, but it feels almost as good, to have a weight around her wrist again. “Thank you.”

Istus is studying her, eyes still soft and fond. “I can’t give you any useful items, I’m sorry, Lup. And I can’t change things, but is there anything I can do for you?”

“Yeah.” Lup’s throat goes dry and she coughs a little to clear it, which, dude, that is a _weird-ass feeling_ after all this time. Her ribs actually shift when she sucks in a heavy breath. “I can’t remember what it feels like anymore, amiga. I’ve got my memories, totally rad, really great to be around that Voidfish problem, but it’d uh, it’d be really chill if I could remember what it was like to touch the people I love.”

Istus’ face twists with emotion, and Lup honestly kind of loves her for that. “Oh. Lup, Lup, of course.”

Another new little thread and some of Lup’s memories gain a tangibility that’s faded from them. She can recall the feel of her forehead pressed against Taako’s, the warmth of his fingers twined in hers, the scent of his favored incense. She can recall nudging her shoulder against Lucretia’s, Lucretia’s bony arm pushing back as she shoots Lup a shy smile, the warmth of sitting side by side. She can recall Barry’s arm around her waist, the feel of his hair against her fingers as she locks her hands behind his neck, the softness of his mouth as she leans in to kiss him.

The last almost soothes the pain of hearing his voice break when he saw Taako carrying her Umbrastaff.

Lup’s fingers numbly come up to touch her cheeks. She’s crying. She barely remembers what it’s like to cry, to be able to express her emotions as anything other than a fiery blast.

“Thanks,” she tells Istus, voice raw. The memories wrap themselves like a furnace in the hollow of her ribcage. For the first time since before she died, Lup feels warm.

“You’re _so very welcome,_ Lup,” Istus replies. “But we’re almost out of time, and I have to put you back before I let them go too. You know what’s coming for you all, and no matter what, I’m giving those boys the time to make that very difficult decision. All I need you to do is keep on being yourself.”

She blinks out for a couple of seconds, quick enough that Lup almost questions the gap at all, but then Lup sees the tears welling up in Istus’ eyes, watches her wipe them away. Her eyes are bright as the light of creation.

“You’ve always been wonderful, but you’re going to be _amazing_ ,” Istus tells her.

Lup’s whole being trembles with the force of that, thinks tears course even harder down her own face, but then she’s settled back into the usual confines of the Umbrastaff and Istus’ pendent is the echo of a thought.

She exhales, as much as the disembodied afterimage of a soul can exhale.

And then the building comes down, and the world starts over again.


End file.
